Month: February, 2009

You’re a one-way street
lined with marigolds
and cold concrete walkways
where the neighbours arrive
and never escape
where the sun is so bright
that the nighttime feels fake
as I walk in the dark
to the end of the street
where the cul-de-sac ends
with a hill by a lake
where a little house sits
in its wintery shell
but the glow in the window
lets me know you’re home
and I’ve come to believe
that were I to leave
I would never feel safe
without this backwoods hideaway
without this one-way street

I wish time were at the forefront of reality
and that my misconceptions were neglected
like the rest of my delusions
condescension is a tool
used to argue
and twist definitions
if there’s one thing I’ve learned
it’s that religion is a decision
and a lifestyle less easily maligned
than others
I can let myself be hemmed in by wishes
or close my eyes elsewhere
and leave hope up to the immigrants
who seem to find promise more easily
than others
but the dream doesn’t seem to be real
for any of us
and when it comes down to it
it’s all about who we trust
and whose dream it is
because it’s easy to believe and hope and dream and wish
but we are all keys turning
and locks breaking
picking our way through that hourglass keyhole
spying on our desires
I only hope I can one day walk away
from the scratches on the door
and write myself a room
which has no walls
and which let me in
simply because
the door was left ajar
and one way or another
I had the key all along

creativity holds no roots
in the boundless soul
or the broken heart
but instead hides itself
in the beautiful imperfections
of this ragtag world
reflected in our perfect eyes
leaving plenty of room
for confusion